Contaminate
by fakescorpion
Summary: Part#6, slight spoiler for SPN 4x02. The angels shouldn't really be the ones to blame for the Rising of the Witnesses. Rated M for sexual abuse and incest, better summary inside.
1. Prologue: Ripples

_disclaimer: I don't own SPN, BDS, or any of their characters._

_Sixth in the __**Chosen by Destiny **__series, with slight mentions of the previous stories but can be read separately._

_Slight spoilers for SPN episode 4x02 Are You There God? It's Me, Dean Winchester._

_The angels shouldn't really be the ones to blame for the Rising of the Witnesses for __Murphy MacManus had a chance to ended it all–really he had–but as he aimed the Colt, his finger trembled on the trigger...and Lilith gave him a smile. __And the moment of hesitation was what resulted in something worse than death and ultimately leaving both twins with wounds no amount of time could possibly heal. __Rated M for sexual abuse and incest._

* * *

_**Contaminate**_

**Prologue: Ripples**

If asked Murphy, he would say there was nothing that could possibly get between him and Connor with all the confidence in the world–they were practically born that way and even before then, when they were cuddling together in a shared womb–and he would also answer with equal confidence that nothing could possibly cause his faith in God and their crusade to rid the world of evil to waver.

He never was a thinking type and never thought much about it as he just took them for granted.

And even though the trickster once tortured him for seven months straight trying to tell him there would be a time in the near future that he would be faced with a possibility that he might need to choose one over the other, it still never occurred to him–or he actively chose to turn a blind eye to it for that matter or he might gone insane ahead of schedule–how much truth could be behind those words.

He remembered that day. The day when his world started to fell apart.

It still amazed him as it started so small. But like a pebble dropped into a lake, the ripple could eventually reach the borders.

He remembered that day. That time.

A couple minutes to midnight. On April 11, in the year 2008.

On the day they met a British girl by the name of Bela Talbot and acquired a colt gun that was said to be able to kill anything.

And on the very same day when the clock chimed midnight, they had watched in horror as invisible hound dogs tore her apart.

* * *

_Just so you know, the rating's for later chapters and it is NOT a romance fiction. Far from it._

_Anyway, thx for reading and please R&R. I would really appreciate it._


	2. Demonic Possession

_disclaimer: I don't own SPN, BDS, or any of their characters._

_Connor's first taste in the domain of the supernatural world. And there was blood and berserk children slaughter and he was definitely complaining since well aimed shots happened to fail him. But hey, at least he hadn't been completely brain screwed by the trickster like what Murphy had to go through._

* * *

_**Contaminate**_

**Demonic Possession**

"Monsters 're real."

Connor tried saying the sentence like it could somehow make more sense, though he still had trouble processing its meaning and it tasted strange between his lips.

So okay, if Dr. Frankenstein who even after swallowing twenty or so of their bullets and still refused to drop dead wasn't enough to convince him, seeing someone ripped to tiny pieces by giant invisible hounds only a few hours later with his very own eyes would do some tricks.

And then guess what? Five months had barely past before they had to go ahead and witness a statue of Virgin Mary crying blood in a small church.

"Monsters 're real?"

Now Connor tried questioning it. But it didn't taste any less strange.

"Aye."

He looked at the goofy grin on Murphy's blood-splattered face as his twin answered in an unconvincing cheerful tone and held out the cigarette from his lips.

Sighing behind the wheel, Connor saw in the rearview mirror how his own blond hair was sticking together by the dark red of dried blood and noted he wasn't any better off and needed a shower as much as his still-wouldn't-admit younger half. With a 'humph' he accepted the offered cancer stick before turning back to the country road. As expected the smoke tasted like iron and copper, probably from the blood stained on his brother's hands.

But God he really needed to feel the nicotinic substance filling his lungs because the weirdest thing of it all was definitely how Murphy accepted the whole monsters-are-real-and-hiding-under-a-thousand-beds thing like it was no big deal.

And no, Connor hadn't exactly got pass the part where there were evil things that couldn't be killed off with a few well aimed bullets. He wasn't going to began with semi-gods and time loops and he definitely wasn't going with how he had died a hundred times over because some fuse in his brain might burnt out.

So here he was, soaked in blood and trapped in yet another stolen vehicle with Murphy's goofy grin in the shotgun-seat.

Really, Connor needed the nicotine.

As it was a long and totally shit-eating night to say the least. And it all began with them following the suspected kidnapper of six missing kids to a tiny, broken-down church in the suburban district of a small town.

_XXX_

**-Four hours ago-**

"Fuck Murph! Why haven't ya called te fuckin' ambulance?" Connor shouted over his shoulder, arms cradling a six-year-old child and a hand pressing a piece of ripped shirt down hard onto the side of the boy's neck, trying in vain to stop blood from gushing out of a nasty cut across the carotid.

"Te fuckin' cell wasn't workin', damnit!" Murphy hurried to his side, gun held at ready and the hunting knife in hand was bloody, but his sapphire eyes never leaving the miscreant lying on the tabloid platform a few feet away. "We have ta take te child back town."

Connor clenched his teeth. "It's a thirty-fuckin'-minutes drive, he couldn't possibly make it with our handlin'."

A heart-chilling laugh drifted from a short distance away.

"Six times when the blood of a harvest-six tainted a place of holy, a seal shall break in company."

"Shut up." Murphy hissed and pulled the trigger, twice, at the laughing culprit that had killed five children whose bodies–corpses**–**were left in brutal and sanguinary messes around the room before he tended to them by leaving out the pennies and crossing their slim arms. The laughing culprit that might be the reason for the death of the sixth child who was barely clinging on.

It was a man, mid-forty, with a face so ordinary Connor still had trouble believing he was the man responsible for such inhumanly acts.

But then, ordinary man wouldn't cause the marble sculptures in churches to be so depressed that they started to weep blood. Nor could ordinary man go running around after three bullets to the chest and one to the head _and_ breaking down walls with their bare fists. And the eyes of any ordinary man were certainly not black–and Connor wasn't only referring to the pupils and irises.

"I get to break the first seal~" The man sang.

"Shut up! Ya make me sick."

"Or what?"

"Or I take yer eyes out next." Murphy snared, but his voice wasn't steady like when he was actually joking around and there was a hint of tremble in his tone that was causing the threat to flail.

And Connor knew why. His brother was pissed off scared. Like he was.

Since it was the first time they had to dissect a man of arms and legs to stop him from moving and yet even after he was reduced into human-bole and bled dry of his own blood, the man just wouldn't die and was still snickering like the _monster_ he was.

Connor was scared and he had a kid dying in his arms. He didn't know what to do.

"I get to break the first seal~" The limbless man continued with his song. "Oh Lilith would be so pleased. It's too bad she wasn't here to see it what with all the troubles down at New Harmony..."

"Ya're a monster."

"Hey, I _am_ a demon after all." The man's chuckle barely fall short of sadistic and he blinked his eyes black again as if to emphasize the point.

"Ya're a sick fuck who read one too many fairy tales when ya were young." Connor said–but come on, demonic possessions only existed in bad horror movies with a young girl bending backwards so much that it was a wonder why her spine didn't break and her neck twisting in angles so odd it couldn't possibly be natural; _Christ_, normal people tended to get fucking frightened in this kind of shit if ever had the misfortune to actually come across in_ real life_, which Connor still doubted, and if he didn't humor it out he's going to pee himself right there–and murmured a quiet 'hang in there' as the child he held again coughed blood.

"...am I...going to...die...?" The boy whizzed, eyes clouded and all tears.

Connor hated it but he forced himself into an assuring smile as Murphy kneeled beside him and made a cross.

"I don't...want...die."

"Dun worry kid." Connor whispered. "We got ya now and te ambulance's comin'."

The man–no, the demon possessing the man–snickered again. "Lying is a sin and as Catholics, you both should–"

"Ya know wha?" Murphy cut him off as he got up, returning his Baretta back into the holster and the knife to the scabbard before taking out an old and rusty revolver with only two shots left from his black duffle bag and aiming. "I dun really trust Bela about crappy firearms, but if ya say another fuckin' word, m' gunnin' ya with this."

The demonic creature was about to laugh again but that was before he realize what Murphy was holding.

"Holy Hell, was...was that the Colt? Was that the _Colt_?"

It was the first time the man-like thing showed any signs of uncertainty, of fear. And both brothers widen their eyes at the obvious change of demeanor but before they did anything else, the supernatural being opened his mouth and–

Holy fucking Jesus!

And Connor thought he had gone blind in that instant and all he could feel was a scorching pain on his chest where his rosary was cool against his flesh mere seconds ago and...and...and...

And he hadn't known he was screaming. Only when he opened his eyes and saw Murphy leaning over him with a concerned look seeming moments later and finding himself flat on his back did he felt his throat hoarse from the scream.

"Te fuck?" Connor demanded weakly, pushing himself up from the dusty floorboards. "Where did te fuckin' black smoke? Wha te...wha? How long?"

"Calm down, only fer a coupl'a minutes."

Connor let out a breath but then he realized the child wasn't in his arms anymore. "Where's?"

Murphy looked to the right and Connor turned towards the indicated direction. There, standing over the finally-no-longer-moving body of the monster, was a thirty-or-so lady in business suit and matching skirt and a teenager that looked like the kind who spent too much time with books and too little time with friends.

The child was now sleeping soundly in the arms of the teenager. With all signs of the sordid neck-wound _gone_.

"What te fuck?"

Murphy shook his head at his brother's bewilderment and made a small silencing gesture. A staunch look on his face that meant he was trying to overhear the conversation just feet away, so Connor followed suit and strained his ears.

"...can't spare anyone, we're outnumbered fifty to one down here." The woman was saying. "We can't keep track of every demon prowling the place."

"Of course, Schliel." The teenager agreed but then fixed his older companion with a glare so intense it made Connor's skin crawl with unease. "But you know what _I_ stand for. And I _can't_ leave unless I make sure the child is safe."

The woman–Schliel–didn't seem to be bothered by the younger man's declaration but still she frowned, if only slightly.

"I will just take him to the nearest residence." A few seconds later it was the teenager who yielded.

With that Schliel nodded and now both she and her younger comrade shifted their attention from each other to the twins.

"Higher-ups should be informed of..._them_ I assume?" The younger of the two tilted his head.

"I will notify Zachariah."

The woman answered and–

The twins blinked in symmetrical astonishment. Schliel was nowhere in sight.

"Wha–?" Connor began, but ceased to speak when he received a cautious grip on his shoulder from Murphy.

"Who are ya?"

The teenager staring at the pair tilted his head further, like they were some sort of confusing puzzle. "I am Pakiel."

Connor could almost feel the question of 'what are you?' rolling on the tip of the younger twin's tongue, but both men were too fucking afraid to actually voice it in fear of the answer.

Then, incredulously, the guy smiled–though it looked more of a plucking on the lips like he wasn't used to doing such a friendly phiz.

"For your aid in the saving of a seal, I express my utmost gratitude."

That created more questions than answers.

"Whaddya mean by tha? Wha seal?" This time it was Connor who ventured as Murphy seemed to get all tongue tied.

"It is the beginning of a war." Pakiel stated. "But as vessels yourselves, you both would be called forth in due time."

"Uh...ya los' me there with te vocab. Vessels? Like in...boats?" Connor held up a hand and gave a try at joking.

Which didn't work as Pakiel only creased his eyebrows, and totally not getting it.

"So 's like...big?"

The teenager slowly nodded.

"Mind explainin' in English?"

"I am speaking in English."

Connor almost did a facepalm. For twenty-nine years of his life, it was the very first time he met someone–something–so fucking cryptic and socially clueless. "I mean ya mind explainin' in more o' a detail?"

Pakiel creased his eyebrows again and there was this stretch of one-sided awkward silence like he had something huge to debate over in his head. Until–

"I have received no orders concerning you."

Which might mean 'No, I can't explain anything to you' or 'okay, here's the story'. But then the guy didn't continue to anything else, so it was more likely the former.

Then just like that. The guy was gone.

And Connor didn't even have a chance to curse as he gaped staggeringly at the space that was now empty after a faint sound of feathers and non-existent wind.

Feathers.

Wings.

_Wings?_

"Fuckin' Christ, Conn." Murphy whispered, grabbing him on the shoulder and eyes sparkling, suddenly all excited like a kid who witnessed Santa coming down the chimney on a Christmas morning.

And Connor didn't blame him as he was sure he had a similar look on his own façade.

"Is he wha I think he is?"

"Aye."

It was better than any fucking Santa. Way, way better.

It was an angel.

_XXX_

"So whaddwe do now?"

Connor gave Murphy a sideway glance. "Get somewhere w'th a hot shower."

"So 're ya plannin' on checkin' out New Harmony?"

"Te place tha fuckin' demon talked 'bout?"

"Aye."

"Why?"

"Ya read, ya know Lilith 's big time."

"Okay, but even if we do find her, so what? Wha're we gonna do?"

Murphy retrieved the old revolver from his bag the second time that day. "Ya know when tha thing saw this, I swore it looked scared."

"So ya think i's te real deal?"

Murphy shrugged.

Connor stared at the long bumpy road ahead, knowing his twin was waiting for his call. It was risky relying on a weapon with only two reminding rounds and if the thing didn't work its said charm, they would end up running a suicide mission. But then again, none of their previous works were anywhere near safe and what was the fun without a bit of risk?

And since they had placed their faith in God to guide them through hard times and had put life and death behind them the moment they accepted the destiny as vigilantes. Then was it really so different, clouting evil men and evil demons? What did they have to fear if they didn't death?

"May God be w'th us then."

But this time, Connor was _wrong_.

–

–

* * *

_A/N:_

_Schliel is an angel of friendship, partnership and love. And is said that she (he? it?) can help with all aspects of friendship, including those that might lead to partnerships or even love. (And she also happened to be a personal joke I played on the twins for her to be one of the first two angels they met.)_

_Pakiel is an angel of family (especially the children) and can bring forth the love of a family and is a protector for kids._

_The MacManus twins' rosaries were actual demon-warding amulets as mentioned in **Hunters Hunted** (the second story of the series), that's why the demon couldn't possess Connor. And the seal the angels saved in this fic is totally made up so no need to go look it up :S_

–

_And finally, thx for reading and please R&R for it's the best feedback we writers could possibly receive._


	3. Scream

_A reply for __Francine Marie:  
Dean broke the first seal ten Hell-years before Castiel raised him out of hell, so I would assume it would be some time around the middle of October__ in the year 2008. The day Dean met Castiel was at least two days after his resurrection so I assumed it would be on the 20__th__ of September and on the night after the Rising of the Witnesses Castiel said that Dean hadn't know angels existed until three days ago, which made that night on the 22__nd__.  
The timeline for the first chapter of this story was actually set on the early hours of 21__st__ so it was would be the second seal demons score shall it be broken. However, I'd noticed that in SPN episode 4x09 __I Know What You Did Last Summer, Anna drew the __Rising of the Witnesses as the first seal to be broken in her sketchbook, which then leaded me to believe that the true nature of the first seal (like the last) was kept a secret to most. So I applied._

–

_Ma had always told her twins to respect women, but never could Connor imagine the kind of disaster that would ensue from being at the wrong end of one–even if she appeared to be a little girl no older than nine–and when he looked into Murphy's eyes, he knew his brother couldn't do it._

* * *

_**Contaminate**_

**Scream**

Connor cocked his eyebrows as Murphy motioned at the two men and a young lady that set at the table off to their right with his fork. They looked ordinary–talking silently among themselves while finishing up their respective plates of food–if not noting the hard edge they seemed to radiate.

"Whaddya say?"

"They're hunters, Conn."

"Hunters." Connor reiterated, but only after giving the younger twin an are-you-okay-'cause-you-sure-don't-sound-like-it stare. "Like deer-an'-bears-hunters?"

"No."

"Like those Benders-hunters?"

"Fuck no!" Murphy stretched a hand over the table almost automatically and with one swift movement smacked his brother on the head, which in return earned himself a slap. "Like supernatural-hunters."

Connor stole another look at the trio before completely abandoning his lunch.

"An' ya know tha, how?"

"I jus' do."

"Fuck tha, Murph." Connor spluttered, tapping the greasy table impatiently and locked gaze with his squirming other half. "Ya're hidin' somethin' from me."

And Murphy fidgeted a little more before he gave in. "I's tha lass, Jo Harvelle. I know her from an'ther time okay?"

"Wha time?"

"Tha time." Murphy said, stalling and steadily growing more uneasy. "Te time I've been done in by te trickster."

Connor was cocked his eyebrows again. "She's in te Wednesday?"

It was meant to be just another harmless remark, but apparently it wasn't as it somehow caused the usually loud Murphy to drop silent.

"Ya okay?"

"I dun wanna talk 'bout it."

And that totally caught Connor by surprise. Because really? Murphy and secrets didn't go well together. As it were always Connor who was doing the dodging and hiding, from the time when they were six and he had been molested by his male kindergarten teacher–something that neither Ma nor Murphy know, and would never know since Connor had planned on keeping it that way–to when they were twenty-five and he had decided to keep the fact that they took the money and guns from the dead mobsters from Smecker.

Connor didn't like that, so he pressed for the details by frowning slightly as he knew his twin could never keep things from him. Not for long.

"Not only te Wednesdays."

As expected, Murphy spoke up barely any seconds past.

"Somethin' else happened?"

"Ya left."

Which didn't make any sense since he was right there, sitting in front of Murphy.

"Ya left, on te one hundred an' second Wednesday." Murphy muttered. "Tha time didn't start over an' I had ta go four fuckin' months without ya."

There was a depressing pause.

"Did I die?" Connor asked after a while and breaking the silence, now feeling a bit sick himself. And it oddly being him who spoke up first when Murphy was supposed to be the hyperactive one didn't improve the matter.

"No, jus'...left."

Connor frowned. "I would never."

"Please, jus' drop it okay? I dun wanna talk 'bout it."

And fuck, was that Murphy–fucking Murphy–_trembling_ on his seat?

Whatever it was, it must be Goddamned awful.

Connor sighed, pushing back his chairs before getting up and motioning at that particular trio. "Let's go meet yer friends then."

"Huh? But they didn't know me..."

"So we may as well introduce ourselves first." Connor said cheerfully, glad that the mopish man from a moment ago were already half-gone as Murphy followed suit and got up.

The said hunters immediately tensed when they saw the twins made their way across and one of the men shifted the way he held the dining knife so subtly that if Connor didn't paid heed to look, he wouldn't notice it.

"What do you want?" The girl wearing a fitting black blouse with wavy golden tousle streaming down her back spoke up first. "Saw you looking at us just now."

"M'name's Connor and i's Murphy, m'brother." Connor began. "We recognized you ta be hunte–"

And that was when Connor was splashed a face full of water, damaging a great part of his self-esteem along the way as Murphy chuckled not-so-softly since this definitely set a new record between the two at how fast one could be dumped by a girl.

"Sorry, just making sure you aren't a demon." Jo stated boldly as an apology. "There are quite a few down the neighbors."

"An' tha's...?"

"Holy water." Murphy offered.

"Um, okay, anyway. We hope ta offer some help with te demon problems around here." Connor continued. "But m'brother an' I are fairly new ta te things–"

"Then you should get going." The muscular knife-holder who wore a droopy coat and a tight outfit that's covered in too much matelote snorted. "Is no game for amateurs."

Connor frowned at the contemptuous statement but still tried to keep his cool.

"So ya know wha ya're up against?"

"Demons, and judging from the signs about two or three and all clustered around the Hamilton's place five blocks away like they're up to something there. And since they're having a party for their girl tonight, we thought of dosing the drinks with holy water." Jo ignored her comrade's disagreeing looks and provided to information. "It's a quick in and out. No biggie."

"Tha's where ya're wrong." Murphy said hotly. "I's not jus' yer average hell-paw, i's Lilith in there."

"Lilith?" The slimmer built man finally spoke up, shaking his head. "And apparently those Winchesters popped more things outta Hell when I'd thought those Sins were bad enough."

"Yeah, right. You heard about Isaac, too, Carl? Poor bastard he was." The knife-holder who had already forgone the knife muttered when Connor tried hard to follow the conversation. "Maybe Gordon Walker was right, maybe we should really do the Winchesters befo–"

Just then Jo's 'How can you say that Faustus!' and–to Connor's amazement–Murphy's 'You can't fuckin' do that!' cut him off mid-sentence.

Which then leaded to Jo's raised eyebrows and Murphy's way of blushing on the inside that only Connor could see.

"We, um, knew those brothers from an'ther...hunt?" The elder twin said, casually brushing away the awkwardness even though he tripped over the last word as he wasn't quite sure if used the term correctly. "A long story."

Jo narrowed her eyes suspiciously but didn't make any comments. Instead, she turned to her comrades.

"It wasn't their fault the Devil's Gate got busted open. They did try stopping it."

"And failed." was Faustus' sarcastic remark.

"I'm not arguing with you over this."

"Look, we only wanna ta help." Murphy said, though Connor's start having second thoughts as the 'hunters'–especially Faustus–seemed to prefer working alone.

"Right." The annoying muscular man snorted, disapproval obvious. "And what do you know about Lilith...or any demon for that matter?"

And when Murphy stuttered a 'Scared o' holy water?' in that particularly naïve way of his, Connor knew they were probably done.

Right on cue, Jo let out a breath as Faustus smirked.

"You gotta be kidding right? Know any exorcisms? Have any rock-salt rounds?" The young girl asked, disbelief slowly surfacing. "How long have you guys been hunters anyway?"

"Fine, 'bout twelve hours." Connor admitted, somehow earning himself a flitting smile from Jo–which Murphy later swore it was his imagination.

But Faustus didn't find humor in those words.

"Go home, kid."

"_But_." Connor stated, cutting off the older man and making himself clear with a single word. "We have somethin' tha may be o' use."

"And what is that?"

Connor spared a glance at Murphy first before he returned his smile to the hunters.

"Whaddya know 'bout te Colt?"

_XXX_

**-****Six hours later-**

Jo Harvelle didn't really trust those two men.

They didn't know any exorcisms, didn't know a thing about Devil's Traps, didn't know the use of salt, almost didn't know the use of holy water. And if they were not the owner of the Colt that she had heard of from Dean and the fact that they wore demon-warding amulets, she wouldn't risk taking them along for the ride.

It's hard enough watching one's own back, let along others.

Right then, she hadn't known they were the reasons she get to stay alive by the end of that day.

The Hamiltons' a rich–and rather popular–family in the neighborhood and for the celebration of the ninth birthday of their little girl, Alison, they threw in a party that's open to all guests. So it wouldn't be any problem getting in and they could keep suspicion to a minimal as long as they didn't arrive together.

Jo wore a tight barebacked dress completely in black–it was the only one she had anyway–as she entered the front lawn where the party had been held. She saw Carl wondering quietly in and out of the long tables, dosing food with demon-poison before sneaking into the house to lay a Devil's Trap. And there was Faustus to the corner, glaring at anybody who took a sip of fruit punch, trying to mark their prey. And then there were the brothers, talking to the hosts and other guests–like that Ridgeway who's a doctor working at the nearest hospital–looking like they were truly enjoying themselves if not noting the alert just flitting behind their eyes.

The alert that only experienced hunters possessed.

Jo shook her head. It wasn't like her for the mind to wonder in a hunt and returned her focus to the mission at hand.

Mark the prey, lure the prey to somewhere private, exorcise the prey.

An hour into the party and there was the signal she was waiting for from Faustus before he entered the house, indicating at a man of medium built but with big hands and feet. But before Jo made her move, she spared a glance across the yard but finding the brothers no longer in sight. Sighing, she introduced herself before asking the marked man to accompany her into the house for somewhere private. Somewhere where Carl had already laid the trap.

But–

"Where's my mommy?"

Jo looked down to find Alison looking at her with watering brown eyes.

"I can't find my mommy." The little girl said, holding out her hand. "Can you help me look for her?"

Jo smiled but before she could refuse, she found her hand held tightly in Alison's small fists and was leaded to the house.

She didn't protest as it was her intention anyway since the demon-man followed her in. But things gone wrong when she got to the back of the house and found the carpet dotted with blood and Carl's body–already ripped to tiny pieces–dumped at the foot of the stairs lending into the basement. The trap was laid but instead of demons, it was laid for the hunters.

And Jo could only react on instinct as she splashed holy water from the steel flask she always carried before the man behind could make a move. Ignoring the demon's agonizing screeches and grabbing the slim arm of the screaming little girl, Jo ran for the stairs that marked the only way out.

She hadn't expected to run into the two brothers there.

The younger at the bottom supporting a severely wounded Faustus and the elder just below the first floor landing.

And Jo saw shock and horror in the closer twin's eyes and had barely comprehend the meaning of the younger one's 'She's tha demon!' before she buckled her knees as Alison sank her small fingers into her thigh like butter knife into cheese.

"Come and play with me." Alison said but suddenly snapped her head around so fast it wasn't humanly possible as she was distracted by a shot of gunfire. And a bullet stopped right in front of her face as the eyes of the little girl flipped backwards, showing nothing but the whites of sclera.

"That's really bad of you." The girl said to the twin and with a small nod sending the Colt swirling from Connor's grasp. "Do you want to play with me as well?"

"Lilith." Connor narrowed his eyes, drawing his own pair of Barettas.

"That won't work on me." Alison–no, _Lilith_–said as she deepen her grasp, causing Jo to wince in pain.

"Can't kill you." Connor agreed. "But tha dun mean it won't work."

Then–with a muttered 'God forgive me'–the twin pulled the triggers before dodging to the side and, before Jo knew it, tackled her in the midsection and forced her again into main body of the house. The shock was enough that she hadn't realized a great chunk was ripped off her left leg before she landed heavy on her back, and for a split second wondered whether the elder twin was possessed as well until he turned and shouted 'Murphy! Shoot te gir–'

But it was cut off as imperceptible claws forced him backwards.

The time seemed to stop.

And Jo saw single worded commend in those hard blue eyes before Connor, too, tumbled down the stair treads with his assaulter and disappeared into the darkness of the crypt bellow.

_Run._

And she knew she could do nothing but obey.

But there was another demon.

Waiting in the house.

And Jo held her wounded legs and half-limped, half-crawled across the empty living room, dragging a trail of blood behind. The soft steps muffled but the carpet was clear to her strained ears and she knew the demon was after her, taking it slow as he took his steps.

Jo made to the front but her shoulders slumped when she found the door closed, and locked. She could pick it, but her hands were slippery from blood and she ended up dropping the steel wires after fumbling with it without success. And she felt tears threatening to break free and knew all was lost as she cursed her wounded leg and slammed her fists into the sturdy wood.

Jo wouldn't admit it but she prayed then.

And the door flew open on its own account.

But outside, where the party was held, everyone had fallen.

But no.

Not dead like what she assumed at first sight, just asleep. And standing in the middle was a teenager, kid, who had dusty hair and wore clothes a couple size too big for his slender form.

Before Jo could call for help, she felt the demon gripping her shoulder and–

The next moment the kid was standing behind the possessed man, seemingly feeble arms holding the bigger being at bay with an inhumanly ease. Whispered words. Blinding white light exploding. And the demon was no more as the host collapsed at his feet.

And Jo knew that she might have just witnessed something astonishing. Before cool fingers brushed against her forehead and putting her to sleep.

_XXX_

"God forgive me." Connor–knowing without looking that Murphy had already gotten the Colt while he talked–whispered as he pulled the triggers at the little girl, aiming for the tendons and immobilizing the monster's movements for a fraction of a second before dodging to the side and tackled Jo out of the way.

"Murphy! Shoot te gir–"

But he had underestimated Lilith's telekinesis powers as he was dragged down the stairs along the way and the next moment, he was shouting 'Shoot her!' while strangling with the girl that's somehow stronger than he was, at the same time knowing Murphy couldn't possible have a clear shot.

And then–

There was much confusion on his side as the worn thread that held his rosary in place snapped–

And–

And–

And he was screaming again.

But this time Connor was aware.

Aware that there was something too big, too dark, too powerful disembogue into him until his very skin threatened to burst.

He was screaming like iron saws were dragged across his very nerve-endings. And for the first time he knew what it's like to fight a fight that's destined to lose. He was wrestling to maintain control but it was like trying to keep one's grasp on fire, a feat that meant both pain and certain failure.

And when he finally fell onto his knees and left nail marks as he clawed at the concrete floor, he screamed. Screamed for his brother.

_Kill me._

_NOW._

But when he looked into Murphy's eyes, he knew his brother couldn't do it.

_Please._

And he couldn't hold on any longer.

_XXX_

_Comes down to a choice between your brother and faith._

Murphy hesitated.

_Your brother and faith._

He saw the despair and the begging for death in those mirrored blue orbs.

_Connor._

But he couldn't do it.

So all was hopeless.

Lost.

And when Connor ceased his screaming and flicked his wrist sideways, Murphy found himself–along with Faustus–pinned flat against the wall, the Colt reaved from his clutches by invisible forces and dropped to the side.

Then Connor slowly raised his downcast face before standing onto his feet. He clenched and unclenched his fists like testing a new apparatus before planting a kiss on his left forefinger tip.

On _VERITAS._

"I've got you now, pretty boy."

It was the same voice but without any hint of his Irish accent, and Murphy felt a shiver ran down his spine as his twin turned and looked at him. With eyes of only white.

"No." Murphy trembled. "Connor. Connor!"

But Connor just smiled and picked up the Colt, shaking his head. "I was wondering where it went since Bela failed to give it to me."

"No!"

"But right now, I've got a spell to finish." Connor continued, ignoring his twin as the whimpering of the little girl, Alison, caught his attention. "Since the ingredients are all here."

And Murphy could only watch in shock as his brother crouched beside the little girl who no longer had the ability to stand.

"The right of an elder that'd seen birth and the left of a youth that'd seen death, and the witnesses shall rise and a cachet shall fall."

"Connor. Wha're ya sayin'?"

"I've already got the eye that has seen birth. From Doc Ridgeway there." Connor nodded to the dilapidated corpse at the far corner. "Now I need the left eye that's seen death."

Alison whimpered again.

And Connor raised a hand at Faustus, who spitted though couldn't take any stand.

"Watch."

Connor said almost-kindly to the girl before closing his fist and–

A horrifying 'splush!' sound followed by a terrified high-pitched scream. Where Faustus' head used to be were now a painted scarlet.

"Hey Murph?" Connor tilted his head to the side, yanking Alison by the hair, and smiled a smile that had used to be pure-Connor.

Had. used. to. be.

And the monster fell into the accent that perfectly imitated his. And it was that hurt Murphy the most.

"Remember tha game we used ta play when we were kids–"

"CONNOR! STOP TALKIN' LIKE THA!"

"–back in Ireland–"

"SHUT UP!"

"–we would dig a hole in a tree an' whisper our secrets–"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"Look a' me dig a hole, Murph."

And Murphy had to watch in unadulterated horror as Connor buried his fingers into the screaming little girl's skull with a spell from a foreign language on his lips. And blood streamed.

"Your time ends here, Lilith."

A flutter of wings.

And Pakiel was standing behind him and said in a low voice.

But the first thing Murphy prayed was hoping the angel would have mercy on his brother.

A deep sigh escaped Connor as he pause his relentless demeanor and looked skyward, back still to the embodied angel. "The problem with you feathered-marionettes is that you all thought you're invincible."

Pakiel narrowed his eyes.

And Connor turned with the Colt held steady in his hand.

"Bye-bye, wings."

A look of utmost astonishment froze on the angel's face as a killing-round penetrated the base of his throat.

There was this cry of pure tribulation that rang throughout Heaven and Hell as one so sacred ceased its existence and the earth beneath their feet shook a little as if in remorse. A flash of light so blinding white marked the final end of the celestial being and eventually all that left was the scorched vestige that expended from floor to ceiling of outspread wings burnt to ether.

What had you done?

What had you...?

And Connor was standing before Murphy saying something about getting hunters out of the way and a thank you for the returning of the Colt.

But Murphy was in shock and wasn't listening.

He didn't know what genuine was anymore.

"Ya wantta live?"

A question breathed into his ears. And Murphy shut his eyes at the thing that shouldn't happen. Couldn't happen. As Connor leaned in close and ran a hand through his hair and down his cheek.

"Ya wantta live?"

The same question, but wasn't expecting an answer as there was none.

And Murphy could taste the fresh blood on his brother's fingertips as Connor caressed his lips.

No.

Not Connor.

Lilith.

_Lilith._

And Murphy felt Connor's body pressed against his. Teeth biting and bruising his lower lip, and tongue flickered skillfully licking his blood-tainted lips clean like seducing serpent begging entrance to deepen the kiss.

And Murphy wanted.

To.

_Scream._

–

–

* * *

_There you go people, a incest without slash. And I'll hand out a warning as the next chapter's going to be a whole lot worse, so RUN if it's not to your liking._

_And as it took me a long time to write this so please review, pretty please.__ I would really really appreciate it for it's the best feedback we writers could possibly receive._


	4. Demons Deal

_disclaimer: I don't own SPN, BDS, or any of their characters._

_I'm going to warn you again as this chapter were the reason this story was rated M for there's incest and graphic sex. You can skip it if you don't like it and I'll be happy to put up a summary of this chapter in the beginning of the next for those who didn't want such contents to damage the eyes and mind._

_Another thing, Lilith didn't really act like Lilith here cuze I had a hard time picturing Connor being all girly and I know most people would as well. And I still called him Connor most of the time cuze I know–apart from a talented few–people tend to think of a little girl or a woman when they saw the name Lilith._

* * *

_**Contaminate**_

**Demons Deal**

Murphy felt sore and ache all over the place but could feel the smooth touch of cotton-silk against his neckline and under his palm as he struggled to sobriety. He was lying in a bed–not the single-kind that usually found in those dingy motel twin-beds rooms where he and Connor most likely to be, but a king-size one that mostly appeared in the honeymoon suite of a four-star hotel–with sheet of niveous rhombic designs and silver linings.

What the fuck?

Cracking open an eyelid, Murphy saw the digital clock by the bedside table that read 20:36 and noted the only reassuring thing as he was still fully clothed–from peacoat to laced leather boots. Trying as he might to remember whether or not he had too much to drink last night–or was it daytime?–to cause a case of temporary amnesia, Murphy found himself clutching something in his fist. It was a familiar rosary with a delicate wooden cross hanging at the end but the filament was loose, and since it was shorter than his it must be–

And Murphy had to suppress a gasp as everything came back to him.

How he had dived for his twin's rosary the instant he was released of that monster's telekinesis powers so the thing that meant so much to the both of them wouldn't forever be lost in that dusky cellar. And how he had been brutally manhandled by demons after their forced retreat from Hamiltons' place, with a slight hint of pride that he didn't let go of it even after losing conscious.

Connor.

"So our Sleeping Beauty's finally awake."

Murphy almost jumped at the voice but being tired as he was, he only turned enough to draw a Baretta from the holster with his free hand and aimed at the source of the sound that's standing across the room facing a large French window overlooking a nocturne with a crystal goblet in hand and sipping red wine.

"Who...are ya?"

"The name's Crowley." The man suited man turned around and said with cadence and a hard-to-miss British accent before narrowing his eyes at the drawn gun with mild amusement. "And you won't be needing that. Since I'm sure the question you're looking for here is 'what are you?' instead."

Murphy fell back, withdrawing the gun. "Great, an'ther demon."

"Not another demon, I'm a crossroads demon–_the_ crossroads demon actually–but I'm just here doing business." Crowley walked to the nearby glass table with upright strides and poured another glass of garnet liquor before handing it out for Murphy to take. "And maybe also a little curious as to what kind of man is unfortunate enough to attract the interest of one such as Lilith. Can't say I'm surprised to find a servant of Heaven, though."

Murphy didn't take the offered drink, only held the rosary in hand tighter.

"Don't worry. It wasn't dosed." Crowley smirked as he shook the glass lightly. "And I assure you, you would be glad you're at least a little tipsy when she gets back–ah, wait, that's a _he_ now."

"Ya tryin' ta pick a fight?" Murphy hissed, getting up.

"Not at all. Just so you could be prepared for what's coming."

"Wha's tha suppose ta mean?"

Crowley placed the refused glass back onto the table and shifted a metal case from behind the desk that was previously invisible from Murphy's line of view to the side of the bed with his feet. So the various contents were now clear.

Knives. Tacks. A small mallet. Something that looked a bit like a stapler. And a lot of other objects that resembled things from a toll box.

"Wha're these?"

Crowley picked up an inch long tack. "Let's just say you wouldn't like them pegged into you."

"W-wha?"

"Still sure you don't want a drink? It might be the last time you do." Crowley said and watched in amusement as Murphy cringed at the suggestion and crawled out of bed, face set on getting out even if every fiber of his being knew it wasn't possible. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Stop me then." Murphy grunted, but stumbled as he still felt his feet were weighed down by lead.

"Not me." The demon scoffed, making no move to stop the departing man as he inspected the brilliant red of the wine that casted a glazy hue to dance on the carpeted floor before pointing absent-mindedly. "That."

Murphy turned his head but saw nothing out of ordinary in that particular corner and thought himself cheated before he felt a searing sting clawed at his calf that caused him to flinch and fall backwards. He yelped more in surprise than pain as he realized the fabric on the left leg of his jeans had been torn and blood was slowly seeping through.

"Wha te fuck is tha?" Murphy asked with much exasperation as he slowly backed off.

"That's a hellhound, princess. So I suggest you to keep away from the door if you don't wish to end up as a chew toy."

Then that's when he heard it. A deep growl like the purring of car engines.

Great. Just fucking great.

And he remembered Bela and the bloody way she had died and he knew he was trapped. Looking at the rosary in his hand again, Murphy knotted the loose ends together and slipped it over his head. The wooden crosses knocked against each other softly upon his chest and he didn't realize he had closed his eyes to pray–

"They won't hear you."

Murphy opened his eyes, puzzled.

"What can I say? I'm a trafficker. So I've warded this place with Enochian sigils as an exchange for the empty Colt." Crowley said, showing the rusty gun before returning it back inside his suit-coat. "Pray all you want but the angels won't hear you."

It was an aspect that he'd never considered before.

Angels listening to prayers.

Then again, it actually made sense.

"I don't see any sigils."

"Of course you don't, moron. But they're strong enough to keep any cherubim at bay and hold back seraphim for a while." Crowley said in that scornful way but then changed his tone slightly. "Though I admit, they're only as good as wallpapering in front of an archangel."

"I can see you're enjoying yourself."

Murphy's heart palpitated at the sound and he accidently bumped into the calves of his twin–who'd appeared out of nowhere and standing not a foot away behind–before he tried to make some distance.

"I think I shall take my leave now." Crowley saluted the newcomer from across the room with a raise of his glass.

And Murphy looked up to find that he was now alone in the room with his fraternal twin.

"C-connor."

"Aye, Murph." Connor greeted but frowned when he saw the skin-wound on his counterpart's leg. "Ya're hurt."

Not waiting for an answer, the blond twin glanced at the corner that was said to hold a creature of Hell and Murphy immediately heard the animalistic growl reduced into a frightened whimper.

"Dun worry, brother o' mine. The kid won't harm ya anymore." Connor redirected his gaze back towards his twin and held out a helping hand. "Can ya stand?"

Intuitively, Murphy raised his hand. As trusting Connor and listening to Connor was a default setting in his very basic character and at the moment his instinct told him to accept whoever–_whatever_–his brother had become and take his brother's hand.

But rationality told him the hand didn't belong to his brother anymore.

And Murphy didn't take the offer as he dropped his hand and turned his head to the side.

"Are ya gonna push me away, Murph?"

"Ya're _not_ Connor." Murphy snarled, but more of a conviction to himself than an accusation to the other. "So dun act like him."

But as soon as those words were out, Murphy felt something tug at his wrists. Then he was being held down flat against the soft carpet as if there were unseen shackles nailing him to the floor, and with his brother straddling his waist.

"I could be him, you know." Lilith said–now with the Irish tint gone–and ran a hand through the darker twin's hair and down the throbbing carotid to his shirt-covered chest. "I have all his memories. I know how he laughs, how he grieves."

And Murphy shut his eyes, deliberately trying to ignore the hand–his fucking _brother's_ hand–that were touching him in inappropriate ways that were causing him to _FUCK_, he wanted to scream.

"I know how he loves you." The demon continued as his hand touched the buckle and ran the length of the belt before snaking his fingers into the other man's pocket and retrieving a pack of smoke, all the while enjoying the discomfort he had caused.

"And I can see you love him very much as well." Lilith added after lighting the cigarette with no discernible means.

But still, Murphy remained silent.

Then the monster leaned onto him so they were chest-to-chest with faces mere inches apart and planted a soft kiss on Murphy's lips. This got a response from the younger twin as he thrashed against his invisible restraints, trying in vain to get away.

"We can love each oth'r, Murph."

And he was Connor again he took a long drag from the newly lit cigarette before placing it–forcing it–between his counterpart's lips.

"Fuck off." Murphy spat the cancer-stick out and hoping it would leave a charred mark on the too-clean carpet.

"Make me." Connor winked. And–

And it took Murphy half a sec to realize he was freed from the supernatural power that had previously held him captive; another half before he start shoving his brother in the chest and kicking with his good leg. Connor yelped as he dodged a punch but was thrown off balance and the darker twin seized the chance to flip him onto his back before trying to stand. But Murphy's attempt to get up was thwarted when he was tackled from behind, causing him to trip and fall, but not before he grappled a handful of Connor's shirt.

So they ended up crashing back onto the matted floor together and in a tangled mess.

And Murphy was panting as he heaved himself up and lean back against the side of the bed. He didn't notice they had made across the room. "...Conn..."

Connor was _giggling_.

Which caused Murphy to wince.

"I told you I can play him well." Lilith breathed, latching himself onto Murphy by curling his fingers around the collar of the black peacoat that the younger twin was wearing. "Why don't we get these off?"

"Ya're toyin' w'th me." Murphy shoved, disgusted.

"Ya should make some sounds I wantta hear." The demon said, easily grabbing the flailing hands of his other half. "Ya know ya got a great voice."

"Let go o'–elp!" Murphy made an incoherent yap when Connor's tongue touched the _S_ on his _AEQUITAS _and traveled to the _A_ that was nearest to his wrist. He tried yanking himself free when his twin start sucking his middle finger, causing his body heat to leap some degrees as the sensation sent waves of _something_ downwards, but the blond brother was now inhumanly strong proving the feat pointless. And–

Murphy jerked at the sudden burst of pain, almost dislocating his finger joints as he was still held fast. "Fuck!" He bewailed vehemently, blood dripping freely from the tip where his fingernail had been peeled off. "Fuck! Let go o' me!"

"The fun jus' started. Dun be pansy over a bit o' pain." Connor smirked, spitting out the hard piece between his teeth to lick his brother's wound, studiously aggravated the pain before he took in the ring finger and peel the nail off as well.

"Fuck! Ya sick motherfucker!" Murphy cursed, shielding his fingers when the psychotic monster finally let go of his hand. "Fuck you! Fuck!"

"We'll have plenty of time for that later." Lilith giggled, then something occurred to him as he stared at his own hand. "Is it because you guys are twins so like having all these tattoos and things that are symmetrical?"

"Fuck! Whaddya c–wha te fuck 're ya doin'!" Murphy suddenly shouted as he saw the demon used the teeth to mutilate his brother's fingers the same way just did to him and instinctively grabbing the bleeding left hand of his geminate half to protect it from further abuse. "Stop it!"

"Kiss it better."

"Wha?"

"Please, Murph." Connor said, flexing his wrist and a glistening knife flew into his right hand. "Or d'ya want me ta cut m'finger off?"

"No!"

"Then do it."

Murphy hesitated before complying, though only to press his quivering lips–closed mouthed–onto the bleeding tip of his brother's fingers. But the demon had other ideas in mind as he twined his other hand around the back of the younger twin's neck and pulled his unwilling prey forward.

"Part yer lips, Murph."

And Murphy shut his eyes as he felt the tinny taste of blood, reluctant to see how his twin explored his mouth. Then lips replaced fingertips and this time it's different from the two times before. This time, the kiss was all teeth and tongue and _passionate_ and–

The younger twin turned his head away.

"Dun ya love me, Murph?"

Murphy gave the _monster_ a death glare, couldn't believe the thing dared to act _hurt_.

"Love's n't lust."

He made it sound like a growl, or a threat–though he doubted it matter. And Connor looked at him for a few seconds deep in thought before abandoning the knife and casting off his coat.

"I suppose ya're right." The blond twin said, hands pressing against his counterpart's chest and leaning impossibly close. "So ya gonna prove it ta me? Prove ya don't lust after me, brother dearest?"

Murphy narrowed his eyes questioningly. But then Connor rested his hand between the younger man's legs and start adding some pressure to his brother's crotch.

"W-wha te fuck're ya–"

"Shh." Connor hushed. "Tell ya wha, I'm gonna put a tack inta yer shoulder every time ya let out an indecent noise as punishment, how's tha fer a game?"

Murphy paled at the thought but couldn't do anything as he was still held down by supernatural forces.

"Ya losin' confidence already?" Connor chuckled in amusement at the way his twin pursed his lips and clench his fists. A hand circling his twin's firm chest and making the body underneath him shiver as he unbuckled the belt and undid the zipper. "Let's see how long ya can resist it." He whispered into other man's ear before pushing down the hem of the boxer.

Murphy was downright trembling as Connor start stroking his cock. Flustered as his body temperature leap another few degrees and hated how his body just respond and grow hard.

"It feels good, hmm?"

"F-fuck! Stop i-it! A-ah–" Murphy bit himself hard to stifle the moan and decided that it was better to keep his mouth _shut_ for the moment as he turned his head to the side and start focusing all his attention to a particular pattern on the wallpaper. But Connor was trailing teeth down his neck and nipping at the sensitive skin as he caressed his harden shaft, making his body burn with need and started to–_Oh, GOD _how he wanted to kill himself because it actually felt _good_ even if it's his own _brother's_ hand causing it–leak.

"Tha's once." Connor's breath ghosted across his lips and kissed him before pulling away. "But ya're better than I thought."

"Wha're ya doin'?"

Murphy panted, wasn't sure why he asked that. But he was hard and on edge and had to bite his tongue so hard he thought he could taste blood as he force back a beg to ask Connor to touch him again.

Neither his morality nor pride allowed that.

But Connor only tormented him this way for the fun of it as Murphy was forced to see how lustful he was when his id was stripped bare and placed in front of him. Then Connor was fondling the tip that was slowly leaking pre-cum again and running a finger up his brother's length as Murphy whimpered and pulled against his invisible restrains, trying hard to resist the urge of wanting to arch his hips up into the hand.

"Twice."

Connor still counted as he smiled and Murphy saw an odd glint in those too blue eyes and immediately knew what his other half was planning to do.

"No! Dun do tha-ahh!"

The rest of the sentence was lost as Connor lowered his head and licked at the seeping slit experimentally, and Murphy cried out, jerking his hips back against the foot of the bed, shocked at what a simple action cause. But Connor wasn't done yet as he licked the full length, rubbing it and sucking slightly on the wet tip, before taking it fully into his mouth all the while palming his brother's balls and teasing them until the younger half was gasping for air.

Murphy's heart raced and his blood boiled with lust and _want_ as he was pushed to the edge, barely holding on, as his twin started to drag tongue and teeth up and down along his member. An added pressure was applied to the susceptible end and he was slowly reeling over into the intimate ecstasy that he refused to feel with such intense heat and pleasure that he could not decline nor escape from as his brother picked up speed.

"N-no, Conn, I...I'm goin' ta–"

There was a moment when Connor weaken his telekinesis hold as his tongue flicked across the wet tip again and the first thing Murphy did was covering his mouth with his hands to muffle the moan as he came, spilling seeds into his geminate brother's mouth.

Murphy was in a daze for a few seconds and didn't come back until Connor was kissing him again. Heated and passionate and demanding.

And he couldn't decide what was worse. Tasting himself inside his brother's mouth and knowing blood and semen didn't go well together or feeling his brother's arousal grounding against his groin through the layers of denim and cotton as their bodies pressed onto each other.

"We'ave ta stick ta te game, dun we?"

Connor said as he tore at Murphy's shirt with the knife he retrieved and bared the darker twin's chest.

"W-wha?"

"You're good, but not good enough." Lilith's eyes flipped white as he smiled, and four tacks and a mallet flew from the case into his hands. "Four times." He numbered as he placed the sharp tip of the inch long metal against Murphy's left shoulder and drew back the hand that's holding the hammer.

This time Murphy didn't resist.

He vociferated when the tack was nailed.

_XXX_

He didn't know when they got naked, when they got onto the bed–with sheet no longer chaste white but dotted with the scarlet of fresh blood and the brown of prior coagulation, along with the spill of improper lust–only that he was flat on his stomach and was burying his face in the pillow he held on to. Maybe trying to somehow suffocate himself.

The digital clock by the bedside table now read 04:52.

Murphy's left arm was numb to anything but pain as there were seventeen tacks pegged from his shoulder down to near his wrist and blood was still flowing freely like newly opened wounds since it's difficult to clot what with all the vigorous action they were going through. Three nails on his left hand were missing as well but he couldn't remember when they were ripped off. And there were knife cuts and flayed skin here and there that he didn't want to keep track of as there were so _many_.

And Connor was behind him, with almost identical wounds he placed on himself to torture and bend Murphy's will, as he gripped the younger half's shoulder with his less wounded left hand and lean over. Kissing and licking and biting so hard it didn't only leave marks but bleed, before forcing his twin's slender legs apart and entering the tight space with a push.

Murphy could felt the full-on erection buried in him as he seized the sheet and stifled a groan. But he couldn't stop himself from arching as Connor moved, flushed skin slide against flushed skin, with the hard cock brushing and gliding across a sensitive spot inside him that he didn't even know existed until. Then the pace picked up, with Connor thrusting into him and touching his prostate every time, making his body burn with _want_ and _pain_.

The pleasures were made even harder to resist as his own erection were being dragged across the mattress with every deep thrusts and the friction the sheet did to his damp tip was driving Murphy insane. He knew he was almost there as there was this animalistic part of him that kept screaming _HARDER!_ and _MORE!_ on the inside but he couldn't do anything about this disgusting self as he pushed himself up by a few inches so his member wasn't pressing and rubbing too intensely against the sheet, all the while trying to keep his moans on the border of gasps.

Connor slithered his right arm around the underside of Murphy's body then. Caressing the nipples as he ran his fingers across the younger twin's chest before wandering lower, to the stomach, then groin, until he was touching the length of Murphy's strained arousal.

And Murphy felt orgasm crashed over him as fingers rubbed the sensitive slit on his wet tip, and he came on his brother's hand as he felt the blond twin losing inside him.

And he knew he'd earned another tack to the arm.

But he was so tired he didn't so much as wince when the pain flared, and just a boneless heap lying on the tainted sheet that was barely keeping conscious due to extreme blood loss.

"Ya dead?"

Murphy didn't reply.

"Ya dead, Murph?"

Murphy shifted a little as Connor pulled himself out. "...m'brother...still there...?" He asked, but the voice was weak and he thought he might forget how to speak properly since he'd been doing incoherent sounds for the past eight hours.

"Maybe." Connor nipped his ears playfully. Teasingly.

"Get out." Murphy tried demanding but it turned into something of a plead. "Please."

"Can't force me."

Murphy closed his eyes and felt something other than blood on his face. Something clear and wet and tasted of bitter salt.

"Demons deal."

And Murphy could practically _feel_ a smile tugging at Connor's lips. Without actually seeing it.

"So we do."

"Then take m'soul. I don't care, jus'...jus' let him go."

Connor propped onto his elbows and leaned over Murphy so he could face the younger man, a hand reaching forward cupping the chin to kiss again. But this time was less passionate and more like a comfort.

"m'sorry, Murph." Connor said. "Six months ago I would jump a' te suggestion, but i's a bit too late fer tha now."

"Why?"

"I've already got m'righteous man."

"Wha does tha mean?" Murphy asked, pushing his brother back. But his whole body protested as pain burnt.

"Dun worry, there're other things I wan'." Connor said, licking the tears away before dragging his tongue down his counterpart's neck and planted the kisses on his chest. "Somethin' ya can give."

Murphy held his breath and waited.

"Dean Winchester."

Connor stated, looking up. Murphy blinked.

"Wha?"

"Ya heard me." Connor said. "Gimme Dean Winchester's head an' I'll return yer brother. How's tha fer a deal?"

"Ya wan' me ta kill him?"

"Aye." Connor answered. "He has angels watchin' over so I can't do anythin'bout it. But ya can."

Murphy fell silent for a moment. Then–

"An' if I refuse?"

"Then I go for another eight hours until you can't move anymore. I enjoy this kind of game. Forcing fathers onto daughters, mothers onto sons, or..." Lilith said, set on gluing his lips onto his brother's whilst Murphy had other ideas in mind and kept pushing away. "...brothers onto brothers."

Murphy turned away, sickened.

"When we're done, you can have some fun with my boy as well." The demon continued, indicating towards the corner the hellhound still stayed. "I'll probably let your dear brother go then as this really isn't the kind of host I prefer, though I'm sure I've got quite a few minions that would love to have a handsome young man to play with."

It sounded like gang rape.

"Ya didn't leave me any choice." Murphy muttered.

"Still. I can't force a deal onto you."

Murphy clenched his fists. "Do we seal it w'th a kiss?"

"You know demons better than I thought, better than your brother at least." Lilith surmised, touching the other man on the cheek. "But no, I'm a little different from others of my kind so a kiss won't do."

"Then wha?"

The demon giggled as he leaned forward.

"Fuck me." He whispered and Murphy felt a cold chill. "Like you _mean_ it."

–

–

* * *

_I don't know why the chapters of this story just kept on getting longer and I'm sorry if I took too long to up-date it. Anyway, thx for reading, especially when it contained this kind of graphic descriptions, and staying with me. Please R&R._


End file.
